Classic Poem

To see the green returning
To stream-side, garden, and meadow, —
To hear the birds give warning,
(The laughter of sun and shadow
Awakening them full of revel,)
It puts me in strength to carol
A music measured and level,
This grief in joy to apparel;
For the deaths of lovers are evil.

Love is a foolish riot,
And to be loved is a burden;
Who loves and is loved in quiet
Has all the world for his guerdon.
Ladies on him take pity
Who for their sake hath trouble:
Yet, if any heart be a city
From love embarred double,
Thereof is a joyful ditty.

That heart shall be always joyful; —
But I in the heart, my lady,
Have jealous doubts unlawful,
And stubborn pride stands ready.
Yet love is not with a measure,
But still is willing to suffer
Service at his good pleasure:
The whole Love hath to offer
Tends to his perfect treasure.

Thine be this prelude-music
That was of thy commanding;
Thy gaze was not delusive, —
Of my heart thou hadst understanding.
Lady, by thine attemp'rance
Thou heldst my life from pining:
This tress thou gav'st, in semblance
Like gold of the third refining,
Which I do keep for remembrance.